Dangerous Insinuations
by cypris88
Summary: My own personal hot little bathroom scene redo, because everyone would secretly love to be locked in a tiny room with Jackson.
1. I

Disclaimer: Nope, Red Eye isn't mine. But perhaps if we all join forces and abduct Wes, maybe we could make him share it with us? ;)

Summary: My own personal hot little bathroom scene redo - because everyone would secretly love to be locked in a tiny room with Jackson. Also paints in some different scar history for Lisa.

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"18F HAS BOMB." Lisa paused a moment, eyeing the hastily constructed words on the plane's bathroom mirror. It would attract the help she desperately needed, even though the message wasn't true. Jackson didn't need a bomb to be a threat - he managed to do that naturally. His painfully deceptive face; the steely, bitter glint in his clear, intelligent blue eyes. At first she hadn't noticed that cruel look in his gaze because she was always striving to be a people pleaser, to see the good in others even when they were at their worst. However, Jackson wasn't at his worst and hadn't been all night; rather, he was in his element. He had the control he wanted and they both knew it.

For a moment Lisa's gaze slid beyond the writing and focused on her own reflection. The thin, yellow lighting did terrifying things to her face. Pale, sick. Throbbing forehead, boiling stomach. Her trachea burned from her half-hearted attempt at vomiting. She needed to get out of this lavatory, off of this plane, away from this nightmare. Why did her nightmares always manage to become personified?

The little girl, with blond hair - she might still be waiting patiently outside. Hopefully her young age would not prompt her to think someone was playing a joke. Lisa hoped she would tell someone about the writing. She would take the message seriously. Please, let her take it seriously.

Lisa knew her brain was only thinking half-clearly, and as she opened the restroom door, she realized it had definitely been thinking with the wrong half. The assassin's tall, dark profile filled the doorway. "I was just wondering—" His predator gaze glanced swiftly around the bathroom and caught the mirror, and his handsome, calm face contorted into hateful scorn. Without warning he forcefully shoved her backwards and entered the room, then slid the door shut and threw the lock.

Jackson grabbed her by the throat with an iron hand and used his body weight to ruthlessly slam her back up against the wall, his head bowed against the side of her face. His other hand covered her mouth, and for a few infinite seconds she only existed in darkness as blind panic overwhelmed her. Outside, the pair heard the flight attendant lead the little girl away to a different part of the plane. As their voices faded, so did Lisa's faint hope of being rescued.

He removed his hand once he determined no one would interrupt them, and lightly twisted his fingers through her curly hair. The sudden heat of his body, coupled with the knowledge of what he was capable of, made her sick to her stomach. "Not smart, Leese," he warned ominously. She felt his warm breath exhale across her cheek, and at that moment understood how little control she had left. She had stupidly underestimated him and now he was locked in here with her and she couldn't do anything about it. The flight attendants already thought she was mentally exhausted from her grandmother's death, and Jackson was an unbelievably smooth talker. "I made it so simple for you," he murmured quietly as the grip around her throat tightened slightly with anger, "and yet you decided to make it difficult nearly every step of the way…"

Her lungs desperately fought for air but could only gain a few mouthfuls before the assassin's chest pressed harder, impossibly closer, against hers. "At this point I have every right to call my guy in the Beemer," he whispered darkly, his lips brushing delicately against her hair. "Call him and tell him to take his time… get that knife nice and sharp…"

Her breath caught in her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut tightly, but the memory from that parking lot, two whole years ago, flashed through her mind as if it had only happened yesterday. She tried to open her eyes again – to force the images out of her brain – realized everything was strangely distorted, as if a twilight sky had washed the world in shadows. She wanted to pass out and fall through the purity of emptiness, but her father… that _knife_…

"I can't - breath…" she cried helplessly, and after a final cruel squeeze that brought stinging tears to her eyes he backed away slightly and released her neck. She gasped weakly and slumped forward a few inches, dizzy with pain and lack of oxygen. To her dismay she fell weakly against him. Her hands cradled her face so he couldn't see her tears, even though they both knew she was crying. She retreated exhaustedly into her mind and wished, not for the first time in recent years, that she had been born a completely different person; that she led an utterly contradictive life to the one she was living now.

Jackson's hand was still threaded through her hair, the other settled on her shoulder before lightly pressing her against the wall. "I think I hit a nerve," he stated with a smug, offhand grin.

Lisa lowered her hands and studied his disheveled hair, the arrogant smirk on his barely parted lips, the imperturbable blue eyes studying her just as carefully… painfully blue eyes that suddenly glanced down and lingered on her chest. She realized his hand was twisted in her shirtsleeve and had pulled the fabric out of place. Looking down she saw that terrible scar, and the memories flooded through her in heart-constricting succession.


	2. II

It happened in a sunny parking lot in Miami, just after four-thirty on a Sunday afternoon. It was the kind of day where the heat shimmered in the scorched air and seemed to melt unmercifully into its victims skin. A hip furniture store was celebrating its grand opening weekend, and the parking lot was overflowing. Undiscouraged, she had parked in the employee lot behind the building, and an hour later exited the store with a heavy lamp that had a quartet of light bulbs arranged artfully on bendable metal pipes. The store was preparing to close and now the customer lot was nearly empty, although a semi had parked near the back and obstructed the view of her car. A tall, stocky man leaned against the side of the semi smoking a cigarette, probably on break from unloading.

She rounded the corner of the truck and unlocked the door to her sparkling white Corvette, throwing her purse inside on the passenger seat and debating how to fit the lamp in without damaging it. She heard a swift metallic clink and moments later a large knife flashed dangerously close in her vision before being pressed against her throat. A beefy arm wrapped around her upper chest from behind and the sharp scent of a freshly smoked cigarette invaded her nostrils. "You are going to climb into the back of that truck," a thick, harsh voice growled in her ear, "and if you give me any problems about it, I'll make you into a Pez Dispenser and _then_ you'll go into the back of the truck."

"If you want money, t-take my purse. Paycheck, just cashed," she stammered, her body stiff from surprise.

"Idiot woman," the thick voice replied angrily. "I want your car." With horror Lisa realized that there was blood sliding down the skin of her throat and soaking into the hem of her shirt. "Drop the lamp, get in the semi, _now_."

She had been fearless up until that day. Still in the healthy epitome of her youth, she had never had a reason to consider her mortality a fleeting, delicate thing. Complying with his demands was such a simple choice, really. However Lisa preferred creating her own options. If the guy just wanted money, that was one thing. But her Corvette was her baby, and she was going to fight for it.

Lisa tightened her grip on the base of the lamp and screamed like a banshee as she walloped the assailant on the side of his head. The light bulbs broke against his skin and sliced the flesh to ribbons. The attacker bellowed in pain as the glass chips caught in his eyelashes and scattered across his face. Suddenly his iron hand grasped the back of her neck and threw her with ruthless force against the side of the car, hard enough to leave an ugly dent. Black fireworks exploded in her vision and she staggered wildly in pain.

"Up for a little bit of fun are ya? You should've told me," he mocked with a harsh laugh. He shook his head and sent glass shards flying through the air. Holding the knife against her throat, his hand slowly groped its way down her torso and leisurely explored her body. He chuckled lecherously in her ear as he reconsidered locking her inside the truck just yet, and an instant later she felt his clammy fingers digging up her torso and fumbling over her bra.

Her fingers had turned numb while her pulse had gone hysterical. For a second the knife dropped away from her throat as he concentrated on unhooking the bra strap, and she didn't hesitate to use her chance. Her knee connected with his groin and she swung to smash her palm up his nose, except he recovered before she was able to regain her balance.

Lisa ducked his wildly aimed punch, but was unprepared to see the bloody knife headed straight towards her throat. Without thinking she grabbed his hand, tried to throw it to the side, but he had too much momentum… She stepped backwards at the last moment, futilely watched as the knife sank cleanly into her skin before her very eyes…

Blazing pain, unlike anything she had ever felt before… the liquid heat still rising from the pavement danced with her briefly before she fell to the ground amidst her lamp and the splintered glass from the bulbs…

The car door slammed nearby and caught her attention. The man's blood streaked face sneered at her from the driver's seat. The burning hatred in his eyes seemed almost dreamlike in its severity. The engine roared to life and the car was instantly in motion. From her vantage point on the ground, she watched it reverse in a wide arc, looked under the bottom of the semi to see the vehicle take off towards the street.

Almost absently she glanced down at the knife still embedded in her chest. She was vaguely surprised that it didn't hurt as much as she had expected. Blood from the wound dripped steadily to the ground, mingled with the glass, and the sun lit up the pavement to reveal a red, sparkling field of bleeding diamonds.

Seconds later, a terrifying, heart-stopping scream. Not her own. Whose? She forced her eyes away from the grotesque blood-soaked sight and looked towards the street. A customer had stepped from the sidewalk and into the parking lot right as the madman was hurtling past in her Corvette. The body was slumped lifelessly on the ground.

Tears stung her eyes; she blinked slowly. If she had simply stuck to being a people-pleaser and not fought back, the man would have been long gone before the customer ever exited the store. Her selfishness at having to play the hero had gotten an innocent person killed… And it was only then that Lisa fainted from pain. After that her life had broken apart, like the shattered lamp she had left lying there on the bloody pavement.


	3. III

Jackson's rough fingertips smoothing over her skin brought her out of the distant nightmare and back into the current one. He carefully traced the white scar, his brow creased as though making a medical evaluation. No, Lisa realized with a chill brought on by more than the caress of his touch, a _professional_ observation…

"Someone do that to you?" Something about her scar disturbed him; his voice was low, frighteningly intense. His dangerous eyes examined Lisa's face once more, and her hands, now pressed flat against the bathroom wall, started shaking. The hateful fire in the murderer's eyes was nothing compared to the bitter spite she saw in Jackson's.

The knife at her throat, the hand creeping down her stomach, the blood slowly pooling under a distant, dying figure…

"_No_," she whispered to herself, her unfocused eyes spilling heavy tears. _Make these memories stop. How could fate put me in circumstances where my actions got someone killed, and then dump me right back into a situation where my lack of action could mean the death of an entire family?_

"When?" His voice was still quiet, cold, intimidating. Her gaze snapped back to the assassin's face. She barely shook her head from side to side, silently begging him to leave her alone, to let the memories bury themselves back where they belonged at the far edges of her mind.

A muscle flexed irritatedly in his jaw. He glanced at the scar once more before he released her shirt and abruptly turned towards the mirror. He snatched a handful of towels and soaked them with water, vigorously wiping the glass clean. "The phones are working again, Lisa, and you _will_ be making that call. Do you think you can handle it this time?" The customary scorn in his tone had returned. Whatever foreign emotion he had revealed upon seeing her scar was completely gone. She doubted she would ever see him caught off guard like that again.

Lisa realized Jackson was studying her in the mirror, waiting for her answer. She swallowed past the knot in her throat and simply nodded. She was out of options at the moment. The assassin threw the soggy towels in the sink with a flick of his wrist, and turned around to casually lean against the basin to observe her from across the tiny room. Planning his next move, Lisa thought miserably, deciding which way would be most fun to torment her further.

"I hope you realize how selfish these attempts are. Communicating with others on the flight not only puts your life in danger, but theirs as well."

Lisa went still. He had hit a nerve again. "Ironic, calling _me_ selfish," she replied in a venomous whisper. His eyes narrowed and his head tilted to the side. She ignored the warning as her voice became more heated. "You _kill_ people and make money off of it. Any civilized, _humane_ person would need therapy for doing that." Lisa knew – she had seen a therapist simply for contributing to an innocent person's death. "What does that say about you, _Jack_?"

She immediately tensed as he shot across the room and slammed his hands on the wall to either side of her shoulders. His mouth hovered close to her ear. "I've never lied to you, Leese," he said softly, seriously. "Which means that when I say flashy assassinations are the usual, then to me, that's all they are. When I say you are putting others lives' at stake, take that into consideration before you do anything stupid."

She inhaled sharply as soft lips brushed unexpectedly down her neck. "You are just part of the job to me," he murmured. She closed her eyes as her heart thudded painfully in her chest. This wasn't happening; it was too unreal. But the caress of his mouth became more forceful – the press of his teeth against her skin, countered by his warm breath – delicately working his way up her neck, sweeping along her jaw line – his lips barely grazed hers and she trembled as a chill passed down her spine…

"Your voice might possibly be the only thing keeping you alive right now," he whispered smoothly. She could feel his face still looming close to hers. "Therefore, let me outline your options at this point. Cooperate - make that call - and your involvement with this little game is over just like that." Lisa had the distinct impression that to Jackson, their current vicious intimacy in the bathroom and the plot to kill the Keefes' were two completely separate games. "Your alternative is to get rid of me, which I can guarantee would be much more trouble than it's worth."

Lisa opened her eyes and gave him a look of pure loathing, even though her lips still tingled from his presence and her heart was not going to calm down for a very long time. "What makes you think so?" She tried to sound haughty but her treacherously unstable breathing almost rendered the attempt laughable.

A faint, superior smirk touched his lips. He ran a finger down the side of her cheek, dropped it several inches to pass briefly over her scar. "Because the last time I was completely unarmed and a man attacked me with a knife, it didn't end up in my chest. It ended up in _his_."

Her eyes widened in shock. He grinned in satisfaction as he slid open the bathroom door, and she listlessly allowed him to tug her back to their seats.

"You're an assassin. You're horrible."

He chuckled quietly and reached for the phone. "Just remember your options, Leese. How this ends is completely up to you. Although," he continued in a conspirative undertone, "one way or another, I doubt I'll ever be completely removed from your life."

Lisa broke her gaze away from his commanding azure eyes and focused on the darkness outside her window. She tried to convince herself that Jackson's dangerous insinuation hadn't been a promise, but anxiety was creeping into the pit of her stomach. They both knew that he never lied.


End file.
